


of almond joys and addictive boys

by IWasBeingArtcastic



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: (and lots of it), Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Cussing, Diary/Journal, F/M, because i didn't really know how to express this, honestly there's just a lot of hinting at abusiveness, i just really like writing diary entries okay?, it's not really sex it's mostly just angst, thank god that tag exists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 20:45:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7330057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWasBeingArtcastic/pseuds/IWasBeingArtcastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I guess everyone had that one candy they were crazy about as a kid. The problem with that is I'd get carried away and eat an estimated seven hundred of them. Next thing you know, I felt like my teeth were about to fall out and were trying to subtly inform me that I needed to cease this madness. I then told my teeth to shut the fuck up and continued eating them anyway.<br/>God, where am I even going with this?</p><p>Okay, what I'm trying to say is that it's been three days since the graveyard incident and for some reason, I ended up having sex last night regardless.<br/>That looks utterly pathetic now that I've seen it written down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of almond joys and addictive boys

**Author's Note:**

> I think oneshots are more my thing, because as I've now found out, I have serious commitment issues. Kind of a bummer, but I can deal with it. Besides which, who doesn't love oneshots?
> 
> Except when they're really angsty. Like this one. Whoops.
> 
> Anyways, I was rewatching the musical yesterday, (and yes, I do have it memorized by now.) and eating a ton of Starbursts. And right around the point where our heroine was debating changing her name and riding up to Seattle, I began envisioning this in my head.  
> And here's the execution. And before you ask, I did indeed choose Almond Joys for the sole sake of having a rhymey-wimey title.  
> Hope you enjoy!

10/9/89

Dear Diary,

When I was around five or six, I had this weird obsession with Almond Joy candies. There's not really a rhyme or reason as to why, but I guess everyone had that one candy they were crazy about as a kid. Sometimes, Mom would come home from work with a bag of them in tow, and I'd feel like I'd just won the lottery. But then she'd tell me that I could only have them once I had eaten my dinner, or if she was feeling lenient that day, my veggies. Of course, being the little shit that I was, I'd sneak them upstairs into my room and eat them anyway. I felt kind of guilty about being sneaky, but it was always worth it. And let's face it- we've all done it once or twice. Or possibly around fourteen times, but that's irrelevant.

But the problem with that is I'd get carried away and eat an estimated seven hundred of them. Next thing you know, I felt like my teeth were about to fall out and were trying to subtly inform me that I needed to cease this madness. I then told my teeth to shut the fuck up and continued eating them anyway. Don't even get me started about how much my stomach hurt afterwards. And it'd get to the point where it felt like my consent in eating them was more than a little ambiguous and some weird instinct was forcing me to continue. That's an oddly graphic description, but you get the point.  
God, where am I even going with this?

Okay, what I'm trying to say is that it's been three days since the graveyard incident and for some reason, I ended up having sex last night regardless.  
That looks utterly pathetic now that I've seen it written down. 

"Project: Attempt to Avoid Borderline Psychotic Boyfriend" has been officially marked as a failure. I kinda knew it was only a matter of time before I had to stop pretending I didn't notice him tapping me on the shoulder or repeatedly calling me while I'm trying to do my homework. One way or another, we ended up going to see a movie last night. I decided that was what we should do because it required minimal interaction and forced me to focus on something other than how fucked up my life currently is. Truth be told, I didn't end up paying much attention to the movie and barely even remember what it was about. I was too busy debating whether or not it would be smart to remove his arm around my shoulders. Yes, that is something I have to debate. Lucky me. 

He was then supposed to drive me home, but he didn't. He took a brief detour to grab a slurpie (how shocking) and went to his place instead, and I didn't have the balls to say anything. Somehow, we ended up making out and take a wild guess what came next.  
Once again, seeing things written down makes me question my decision making.  
Actually, it really wasn't my decision. But it's not that I didn't say yes; it's more that I didn't say no.  
That wasn't even the scary part. Directly afterwards, he tried to pull me into his arms, and in a moment of strange courage, I resisted. Then, this fucker decides to grab - yes, _grab_ \- my arms and basically force me into it. I swear, I can't make this shit up. 

Fun fact about me: I have crazy insomnia. I have a naturally active mind, and it's pretty hard to turn it off just because I'm supposed to be asleep. Usually, it'll take me about three hours to fall fully asleep. Sometimes, it'll even take four or five. But whenever we sleep together, I find it oddly easy to nod off, and I'm out in thirty minutes tops.  
Last night, I did not get a single minute of sleep. Even weirder, my mind was completely blank.

And so it's twelve PM on Monday and I'm exhausted as all hell, could really give a shit about whatever Mr. Whicker is saying about the French Revolution, and for the first time in ten years, I'm craving Almond Joy.  
But I know that if I start, then I can't make myself stop. This seems to have become my eternal state of being.  
God help me.


End file.
